We Never Stood A Chance
by Lulubird
Summary: Cato/Clove. "If this was real. You would be dead." In a twisted, sadistic kind of way they worked. Fast upload. Please read & review.
1. One: Living Dead Girl

**A/N: So I've tried something a bit different. Various lyrics interspersed with story to tell the tale of Cato and Clove. It was too long to upload as a one shot so for the next 7 days I will upload 1 chapter a day. Hope you like it.**

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><p><em>Who is this irresistible creature<br>Who has an insatiable lust for the dead?  
>Living dead girl<em>

He watched with narrowed eyes and an amused smile as she pinned her opponent to the ground and quick as lightening had a little silver blade pressed to his neck. The guy was easily twice her size but her breathless laugh of victory and one escaped curl of hair were the only signs it had been any effort. Her victim let out a below of rage at his defeat and Cato couldn't help but laugh.

With delight he watched as the girl pressed down on the captive's wrist, pinned under her foot. There was a sickening crunch as his wrist broke and the others watching with him turned away, disgusted. He kept his eyes fixed to the scene, mesmerised by the sight. He hadn't seen a fight this good at the Training Centre in years, not since he had been fresh meant.

There was another furious bellow from the boy on the floor. Cato felt a tingle of pleasure up his spine as he detected the pain woven through his rage.

There was complete silence from everyone around them. They all seemed frozen in spot, equally drawn to the horror in front of them. His eyes stayed firmly on the battle before him but if he had looked up at their faces, he would have been disappointed. Their eyes held apprehension, disgust, concern. A few looked mildly thrilled but there was nothing to compare to his own ravenous craving for blood which he knew shone manically from his eyes. He watched with shivering anticipation as the slightest movement from her hand drew a bright line of scarlet beads across her victim's throat. Cato licked his lips with bloodlust and let out a shuddering breath of desire.

He wanted to watch her kill a thousand people with those dangerous little blades. He wanted to watch her makes art from their bodies and laugh as she did so. And he wanted to make his own art. His relentless hunger for pain drew him to her fragile looking wrists, her tiny throat. He wanted to know what it sounded like when she screamed and he wanted to hear the sounds of her bone snap.

The shout of a trainer interrupted the perfect moment and then she was leaping from the boy on the floor, standing back as they barged their way over, shouting and gesturing wildly at the blood dripping from the graze on the boy's throat. Her eyes scanned the room, an open challenge and warning to all watching. As her eyes darted in his direction he turned away, but not before he had met her gaze, bright with the exhilaration he knew only came from wielding pain and recognised his own vicious hunger for bloodshed in her sharp, black eyes.

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><p><strong>Living Dead Girl- Rob Zombie<strong>


	2. Two: Howl

_My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in  
>You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl<br>Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart  
>drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart<em>

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><p>"You'll never beat me," he chided, knowing it would get a rise from her. They were training alone in the deserted centre, mere weeks to go till Reaping Day. At his teasing her pride got the better of her and she lunged angrily at him. She was surprised as she landed a blow on his shoulder, feeling him dance away a second too slow. She saw the trap too late though as he gripped her arm and spun her around, capturing her back against his body. He was stronger than her. All the knives in the world couldn't change that. That didn't stop her from struggling against his hold. He laughed callously at her attempts and with a shiver she felt his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear.<p>

"If this was real, you would be dead." Anger boiled up inside her but vanished instantly as she felt his fingertips pressing against her ribcage. It took everything she had to not shudder with craving at his light touch. She knew how he was itching to press harder, to snap her vulnerable bones. And she knew how easily he could do it. "I could have killed you here," he continued, a sly smile in his voice as he pressed on her ribs. She let out a low growl of pleasure. He laughed cruelly again and his fingertips trailed a burning line up her side, resting on her neck. "Or here." He would be able to feel the thud of her pulse under his touch.

He lifted his hand slightly and as she sensed him leaning forward she spun out of his grip, turning to face him with a wicked smile. With unparalleled agility she darted towards him and tripped him so he landed with a heavy thud on the practice matt beneath them. By the time his eyes registered what had happened she was on top of him, pinning him to the ground with the silver glint of a blade pressed to his chest.

"How about here?" she asked mockingly, turning the knife so it rested delicately on its tip, directly over his heart. Her eyes darted over his body, running from pulse point to pulse point. She could so easily release the blood which coursed beneath his skin.

Blood called to Clove. It sang to her as it coursed through veins. It begged to be released, to be set free into the world from the cage of life.

It only took the slightest pressure from her expert hand.

He looked at her, cheeks flushed with exertion and eyes gleaming bright with the sadistic bloodlust that had drawn her to him. Holding his gaze she pressed tenderly on the blade. It was the smallest of movements but it sent electricity up her arm and dancing through her body till she gasped with the thrill of power. She looked down at him and knew that in the very instant she could end his life. He looked back at her with hungry eyes, revelling in the split she was drawing down his body with the tip of her blade. Dark blood welled from the shallow cut and ran in rivulets down his chest. It was going to scar. With a sigh of pleasure she pulled her hand back slightly, smoothly withdrawing the silver from his skin and releasing the blade from its precarious position over his heart.

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><p><strong>Howl- Florence and the Machine<strong>


	3. Three: Rabbit Heart

_This is a gift, it comes with a price  
>Who is the lamb and who is the knife?<em>

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><p>They laughed as they crashed their way through the trees, snapping ferns and branches out of their path in the pursuit of their victim. The boy fled as fast as his feet would carry him but he was cold, and hungry and tired and they had the adrenalin of a fresh kill pumping through their systems.<p>

There was nothing like the chase.

They hunted alone now. Just the two of them. Their little alliance with Glimmer, Marvel and the boy from 4 had shrunk as one by one the weaker ones had fallen. It hadn't surprised them in the least as each canon fired. They always knew they would be the last two. It was inevitable.

They had the advantage of the still night and in no time at all they had the boy cornered against a wall of rock.

It had been one of their harshest training exercises- hunting at night. It had usually involved being abandoned in the middle of a forest or a wasteland on a freezing cold night without supplies. The winners were the ones who made it back alive. Plenty didn't. Training in district 2 wasn't that much different to these games. They were encouraged to kill from the start and less than a quarter of those selected or surrendered at the age of 6 actually survived until their teens to enter the Games.

Their first night hunt together had been several years ago, when the diminished training groups had joined, due to reduced numbers. Cato had been 13, Clove 11, and they had formed an impromptu alliance. It had been a few weeks after he saw her defeat the boy in the middle of the training centre and he had made sure to keep his eyes on her whenever she was around. Not just out of the morbid desire he felt but he sensed she wasn't the type of person you turned your back on if you wanted to survive. She was cruel and she was sadistic. A wickedly dangerous combination and one that made him toss at night as he dreamt of blood and screams and a pair of shining black eyes.

She had been drawn to him because she sensed his strength. She was always completely alert to everything around her and so hadn't failed to notice the way everyone else at the training centre gave him a wide birth- even though he was one of the youngest. He had strength and he had skill and something else. At first she couldn't quite put her finger on it but as she watched him drive a spear into a kid's thigh it suddenly struck her. He had the desire. The way he smiled when he forced the metal point into tearing flesh was thrilling. And the way he clearly took even more pleasure in slowly drawing it back out, ignoring his victim's cries and watching the blood begin to pour. That was the reason she couldn't take her eyes off him.

She wondered if he knew he licked his lips hungrily every time blood was spilt.

He was doing it now as they prowled closer to the terrified boy. He had flattened himself against the rock as far as he could but surely he must know he was going to die. She could see it in his eyes and it made her whimper with delight.

Cato glanced over at her, a similarly bloodthirsty expression on his face, and grinned. They took their weapons out together, his, a heavy, strong sword that could break bones if wielded with enough force, and hers tiny, dangerous blades which could kill in an instant. Together, they were the perfect killing machine.

Cato began, drawing an agonized cry which sent shivers of delight up his spine, and set the first blood free. Then he looked at her, an offering, and she smiled at him as she drew beautiful lines of crimson across the fading boy's skin.

When it finally came, they shared the pleasure of the kill.

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><p><strong>Rabbit Heart- Florence and the Machine<strong>

**A/N: Please remember to review guys. :)  
><strong>


	4. Four: Vindicated

_Hope dangles on a string  
>Like slow spinning redemption<br>Winding in and winding out  
>The shine of it has caught my eye<em>

The forest returned to silence after the booming voice disappeared. Not even the birds were singing. Clove's eyes dropped from the empty sky to meet Cato's across the clearing in which they had settled. She looked at him with wide-eyed shock which slowly turned into a triumphant smile to match his own.

"We could go home," she said, clearly turning the words over with tentative joy.

"Both of us," he agreed. Her eyes shone with excitement and he knew exactly how she felt. Hope was bubbling up inside him. It was the strangest sensation. The closest he had ever come to it was the feeling before the inevitable kill. But something about this was better.

He shivered with a new energy that ran through his body, chasing away the cold that had been seeping in. He stood knee deep in the chilling water of the river, his shirt open as he attempted to clean himself up. The blood of several tributes had started to crust on their skin.

Suddenly she was splashing towards him, sending small waves crashing back to the shore and completely uncaring of the clothes she still wore. She stopped just before him, breathing hard from the cold assault of the water but eyes gleaming with...what was it? Oh yes. Hope. That was the sensation bubbling up inside of him that made him want to laugh.

Letting the excitement bubble out of him in a slightly manic laugh he threw his hands up, sending water spraying up around them and covering her completely. In retaliation she gave him a shove in the chest and almost sent him toppling backwards into the freezing water. Her hands left icy handprints on exactly the place where, only weeks ago, her favourite knife had left a searing scar down his sternum.

He had dozens of scars scattered across his skin but every time the silvery line had caught his eye as he surveyed his muscular body in the mirror, he had found himself tracing the line with a fingertip and smiling, though he didn't know why.

As he watched her splash and laugh in the water he realised she looked more like a child in that moment, at the age of 14 and with the blood of other children still drying on her clothes, than he had ever seen her.

And he realised too that until this moment, he hadn't even given a thought to life after the Games. He had endured 10 years of punishing training for one thing, and one thing only. To win. Pride, Honour, Glory. But suddenly he realised that he had never been able to picture what life would be like. He knew what victor's did, they had no shortage of them in District 2; there would be cheering crowds, opulent wealth, and finally a senior position in the training centre where he would train dozens of little children to fight and to win. He knew these things only because that was what the others had done. But he couldn't imagine it for himself. He simply couldn't visualise life after these Games. But now...

He could see it now. He could see the future stretched out before them, filled with delicious pain and excruciating pleasure. They were unbeatable and as champions the world would be theirs for the taking.

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><p><strong>Vindicated- Dashboard Confessional<strong>

**A/N: Please Review. :)  
><strong>


	5. Five: Last Day on Earth

_And you hold me closer than I can ever remember being held,  
>And I'm not, afraid to sleep now, if we can stay like this until.<em>

With a start she felt his hand slip into hers. She hadn't even realised he had crashed out of the trees and sprinted across the grass to kneel beside her. Tiredly she opened her eyes and a wave of relief washed over her as she saw his familiar face staring down, creased with worry.

"Cato," she tried to say, but the words were lost somewhere deep inside the fog in her brain.

"It's okay, I'm here." His voice sounded different. She couldn't quite place what it was though. Maybe he was angry at her for losing their bag. No, it wasn't that. She knew what anger in Cato's voice sounded like. Like beautiful burning fire.

Oh. He was saying something. With effort she focused on his face and the words slowly slipped through to her mind.

"Don't leave me." Was it a request or a command?

Pain jolted through her head as she felt his strong hands lift her into his arms but she didn't complain. They'd both been conditioned to pain a long time ago. You learnt to extricate yourself from it somehow. So this was what dying felt like? Oddly, she had never actually considered the concept before. Not in regards to herself. Oh, she knew she would die, but she'd never actually considered what it would be like. What was the point if it was inevitable? Death was what came at the end of a blade. Death was watching the light fade from their eyes. It was something detached from her. But this didn't feel too bad really. She was so tired.

She closed her eyes for a second. It was alright, she could still feel the heat of his skin where it was pressed against hers and she could faintly hear his heartbeat in his chest. Even through the armour and cloth it sounded louder than her own.

"Don't you dare close your eyes!" That one certainly wasn't a request. She wanted to smile at the familiar fiery tone she had heard him use so many times. She may have smiled, she wasn't sure. That tone never boded well for those on the receiving end.

She didn't really feel sad about dying. Maybe she should have. Her regret, if she had been able to form the thoughts in her mind, would have been that Cato hadn't been the one to kill her. If she was to die, she wanted the kill to be his. She knew how much he had wanted to be the one to break her bones, to slice her skin. She knew how much he had wanted to dip his fingertips into her blood as it ran free. If she was going to die, the least she could have done was give him the delicious pleasure of her slaughter. He would have done the same for her.

She couldn't think. Not about the fact that she wouldn't be returning to the District with Cato. So recently it had filled them with such excitement but that seemed distant now. It all seemed so distant.

Even the beating of his heart sounded fainter now. She wanted to open her eyes again to make sure he was still there. She couldn't feel his fingers gripping her body any more. Maybe he was gone.

But it wasn't Cato that was gone. It was Clove.

**The Last Day on Earth- Kate Miller-Heidke**

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter was the hardest to write (without crying). Enjoy and please review :)  
><strong>


	6. Six: All The Rage

**A/N: Thank-you to all who have read and reviewed- especially EnzieGurl86. Hope you all enjoy this chapter too.**

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><p><em>Why do we need this<br>Who was it that said  
>That great things come to great men<br>Well that fucker lied to us  
>There's nothing here but a wasteland<em>

Walking away from her was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. There was no label for what they had been but suddenly he had realised he wanted her alive. He had dreamt of all the ways to kill her for so long. He had imagined the way it would feel to slide a knife over her exposed skin, to wrap his strong hands around her fragile throat, to leave the red marks of his teeth in her skin.

He had dreamt of all the ways to kill her for so long that when he had looked upon her corpse he had felt only a hollow nothing inside. He had not even realised how much space her presence had filled inside of him. It wasn't just the sweet pleasure it had given him to think of her blood, it was that, between them, they had had something, they had been something. It wasn't normal, it wasn't sane, but then neither were they.

With her dead that was all gone, and it was only now he realised that he actually had very little else. Without even realising it the glory of winning, the pride of victory, the praise of his district, all the things he had been trained to seek since he was young, they all paled in comparison to his desire for her.

He disappeared into the trees without even looking back.

Everything he touched seemed unreal. The rough bark on the trees, the cold water of the river as he splashed it on his face, the weak sunlight streaming through the leaves. None of it was real anymore. He thought there had been a goal. Survival. Everything had been about surviving, winning, glory.

It had all been a lie.

Everything he had ever thought he knew suddenly meant nothing to him. His stomach turned at the words in his mind- glory, honour.

As he moved through the trees he knew that even if he wanted it, it wasn't there to achieve. Even if you walked out of this hell hole, you were never going to be free. He realised that now. He was empty. There had been two things that made him Cato; winning the Hunger Games and Clove. For the briefest moment he had foolishly believed that the world would be merciful enough to hand him both. Idiot.

They had all been running blindly in the dark. He had foolishly believed that he and Clove were destined to win, because they were the best, the cruellest, the strongest. But they were all just running blindly in the dark. Sure some of them might hold a better weapon in their hand, that just meant they took longer to die. There was no golden apple. There was nothing.

He took down his last tribute. It wasn't about the death toll anymore. This one was pure revenge and uncontrollable rage. He couldn't rip to shreds the people really responsible for ripping the last bit of hope from his world, so he made do with Thresh.

But the kill wasn't as sweet without her bloodthirsty calls egging him on. There was no one to turn to and see his own brutality reflected in their shining eyes.

He was alone.

To the end he gave them a good show. It was the last thing he could control- his death. He wouldn't give the Capitol a winner. He wouldn't give his District a victor. But he gave them what they wanted most. A God Damn Show.

**All the Rage- Funeral For a Friend**


	7. Seven: Dance With the Devil

**A/N: Here it is folks. The end. I just want to say thanks to everyone who read and reviewed (and hopefully still will read and review). It's been fun to explore my inner psychopath through Cato and Clove. If you like what you read check out my set of one-shots for them, titled 'Destined to Die'. But for now...enjoy. **

**-Lu**

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><p><em>Say goodbye<br>As we dance with the devil tonight  
>Don't you dare look at him in the eye<br>As we dance with the devil tonight_

She thought there would be something here. She hadn't expected heaven, that was an idiot's dream in her world, but surely there would be _something_. Anything. A part of her wanted to watch what was happening...below? Above? She didn't know. On earth, then.

She hoped he would win. He had to obviously, there was no way in hell Cato wouldn't win. She laughed at her own joke, and the noise reverberated off nothing and came back to her in an eerie echo.

If this was hell, wasn't it supposed to be unpleasant? Perhaps she was so twisted that she actually _enjoyed_ hell? Though that confused her. Heaven for Clove would surely be blood and delicious, excruciating pain and fire- the very definition of hell. Really, she should be happy either way. So maybe the universe was pulling a cruel trick on her and sticking her into nothingness.

Her body was here, and not here. She couldn't see herself, she couldn't see anything, but she was here. She spent a long time pondering that. Though perhaps it had only been seconds. Time seemed to slip in and out of her brain here.

It almost gave her a heart attack when she felt his hand in hers. It was as real as the last time she had touched him. She considered it for a few moments, running her fingers over the calloused skin in her grip. Her mind was taunting her with memories wasn't it?

_This is what you've lost._

"Is this meant to be hell?" Hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud in the deafening silence shocked her. She didn't reply. Wouldn't that be crazy, replying to your own mind?

Clove, you left crazy behind a _long_ time ago, a voice in her head said. Or perhaps it wasn't in her head. It hurt her brain to think about it so she stopped.

Sometime later she realised it wasn't thinking that was hurting. She reached a hand up and felt her hair, matted and sticky with blood. It was still seeping from a crack in her skull. Had that been there the whole time?

It was only distantly that she remembered her death. It had seemed quite detached from her until she felt the wound on her head but suddenly she remembered Cato's face. His eyes.

And then there they were. For the first time she was looking at something. He was as solid before her as he had been in life and she knew that if she lifted her arm, she would see it before her, and she would be able to watch her fingertips touching his cheek.

More mind games. Taunting her. But then, why would it taunt her with this? Why would she want to touch his cheek? If hell, or whatever, wanted to taunt her with everything she had lost, surely it would show her the hunger she had carried inside for so long, the desire to rip him to shreds. She had never wanted to _touch his cheek_...had she?

He was looking at her, waiting.

"What?" she demanded. There it was. That felt more real. She recognised the venom in her voice and it comforted her.

"Well, you're the one who's been here longer. You tell me." His reply was just as snide as always and it made her smile.

"So, you're a figment of my own personal hell are you?" she tilted her head to one side and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Huh. Figures."

He laughed coldly at that. "Don't worry Clove. I'm just as dead as you are."

What? That made her frown. Why would he tell her he was dead? Surely it would torment her more to know what he was living on earth, the blood still being pumped around his body by his heart. He was still there to break, to snap, to slice...forever unreachable. If he was here though, she knew no one would ever have the pleasure of that. She quite liked the idea of him being here, dead.

A sudden thought struck her and she launched herself forward, wrapping her small fingers tight around his throat. Her grip tightened, despite her size, to the point where surely he couldn't breathe but he just laughed at her. He seemed rather amused by her attempts at strangling him. She gasped at the delight of pressing against his jugular, of tightening her hands that little bit. She had craved this for so long.

Suddenly overcome by the sheer pleasure of the act she sprang backwards, breathing heavily and watching him warily. Hell wasn't supposed to feel this good. But then, surely heaven wouldn't let her strangle him to her heart's content would it? She had never belonged in heaven, she knew that even if she didn't believe in it.

Calmly he inspected his fingernails and threw her a wicked smile. "I think I'm going to like this place."

"You're dead?" she said coldly.

"As a doornail," he replied, grinning.

"How?"

Darkness flashed across his face for the first time. "Well, it was rather complicated but I guess what brought me directly here would have been one of Fire Girl's precious arrows." Clove hissed instinctively which made Cato grin again. "My thoughts exactly."

She didn't reply and time slid away again. Sometime later, who knew how long, she looked back at him. "So now what?"

He looked straight at her, licking his lips. "Now, we play."

**Dance with the Devil- Breaking Benjamin**


	8. Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying

_This has been said so many times_

_I'm not sure if it matters_

_But we never stood a chance_

_And I'm not sure it matters._

_**Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying- Fall Out Boy**_


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